


Indecisive

by Habernero



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Derek Hale, Cock Rings, Deepthroating, M/M, Oral Sex, Top Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-17
Updated: 2012-10-17
Packaged: 2017-11-16 12:04:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/539220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Habernero/pseuds/Habernero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another kinkmeme story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Indecisive

"Oh jesus, god, _please_."

“What do you want?”

“I don’t _know_ ,” Derek growled, and so Stiles decided to go on ignoring him.

He had Derek just where he wanted him, anyway: tied to the bed, still fully clothed—apart from his cock, which was jutting out from his jeans, hard and dark with a shiny cock-ring tight around its base. 

Stiles especially liked Derek keeping his clothes on for this, because firstly, it looked fucking hot, the contrast of bare skin against all his dark rumpled clothes; and secondly, because Derek had admitted that it focused his concentration right down. Just his cock uncovered; touches through his clothes feeling vague and stifled by comparison. All Derek would be feeling right now would be Stiles' lips around the head of his cock, gently brushing the sensitive skin as Stiles waited for the ooze of pre-come to start in earnest.

Initially, Stiles had been surprised by how much Derek's cock leaked when he was really turned on. It had been the first time Stiles had fucked him on his back: he'd tied Derek's hands above his head and crawled on top of him, his cock dragging against Derek's bare thigh, and Derek had hissed and wrapped his legs around Stiles' waist, tipping his hips up, a sort of wordless begging. Stiles had been fingering him a while already, and Derek was ready to go, but Stiles had wanted to watch his face—and wound up watching his dick. It jerked as Stiles held his cock against Derek's asshole, and the gleam of pre-come had burgeoned into a shiny bead that slid slowly down the shaft of his cock. Stiles had been going to fuck him hard, but he found himself hesitating, his cockhead just pressing slightly into Derek's hole; he rubbed the pad of his thumb across the crown of Derek's cock, and it let out another large droplet of fluid, and then another, with every second Stiles kept his thumb there. He tried stroking Derek's cock, and found his hand coming away covered in warm slickness—and then Derek started pleading and Stiles remembered what he'd been planning to do, and got back down to the business of fucking Derek's brains out. He’d been aware, though, how hot he found it that Derek’s cock was slicking up their stomachs with every thrust. 

Which brought them to this. Derek in a cock-ring, immobilised on the bed, and Stiles between his legs, teasing the head of Derek’s cock with his lips. Every time he reached out with his tongue there was another fresh salty-slick pearl to lap up, and it was intensely fucking hot to know he was causing them.

Stiles dragged the tip of his tongue in a slow circle and let the next rush of salt coat his lips, making them shiny. He knew it looked obscene; he knew Derek wouldn’t be able to look away. Derek’s cock was getting harder, veins bulging, the head a taut shiny pink. Stiles’ hands were planted on Derek’s hips, holding him down, but Derek was still managing to shift restlessly against the mattress. It made Stiles want to fuck him: rip off his jeans and grab him by the hips and work his cock slowly into his ass, watch Derek come apart around him.

Later. 

Stiles licked the pre-come off his lips, slowly so that Derek would definitely be watching, and then he took Derek’s cockhead into his mouth and started to suck. 

“Fuck! Stiles,” Derek whispered, his voice broken with panting. 

Stiles pulled off again and looked him in the eye and said, “What? Don’t you like it?”

Derek screwed his eyes shut, colour high on his cheeks. He was sheened with sweat, and his chest was heaving against the buttons of his shirt. 

Stiles looked back at his cock and saw another large pearl of pre-come at the tip; he ducked down and licked it, and Derek hissed through his teeth but didn’t say anything. It was coming faster now, steady pulses of slickness against Stiles’ tongue, and Stiles smiled as he swallowed it down. It felt dirty as hell, taking Derek to pieces like this, until he was practically insensible with the need to get off; and that, Stiles had been discovering recently, was one of his favourite feelings.

Stiles hummed and sucked, starting to bob his head, and Derek gave a broken sigh, his hips craning up. Stiles tried to see how much of his cock he could take into his mouth – he was still learning the more advanced arts of giving head, having been inspired by all the tricks Derek lavished upon him. He forged down and found that, when he really tried, his lips could brush the flies of Derek’s jeans, splayed open around the root of his cock. It tripped his gag reflex, though, having Derek’s thick cock pressing that hard on the back of his mouth, and he jerked back a microsecond later, eyes watering. 

Derek made a low noise, deep in his chest. He was straining against Stiles’ grasp, rocking his hips, and his cock was leaking steadily against Stiles’ tongue. Stiles swallowed hard and went back to lapping, getting his breath back and rubbing himself against the bed. His own cock was rock-hard and beginning to ache, and he was suddenly feeling torn: he’d been planning to get Derek to the point of desperation and then kneel over him and fuck his mouth, but now Derek’s restless hips were making him think about fucking his ass instead. 

He thought about letting Derek choose, but there was no point. By this stage, if asked, Derek would invariably fix him with those intense dark eyes, pupils blown, and rasp out, “I just want your cock.” 

Yeah, Derek was pretty useless when it came to making these sorts of decisions.

Stiles focused again on what he was doing, slipping the head of Derek’s cock in and out of his mouth, sucking down the warm beading pre-come at every pass. He let his tongue play into the slit, and felt Derek jerk against the ties binding him to the bed—he was so fucking sensitive there, Stiles knew, if it wasn’t for the cock-ring he’d be coming in seconds. 

Leisurely, Stiles did it again.

“Fucking—fucking hell!” Derek shouted, arching his back and scraping his heels against the bed, and Stiles made up his mind all at once: he was going to do both.

He drew back and crawled up Derek’s body, undoing his own flies with one hand as he rose to his knees. He cupped Derek’s chin, lifted it so Derek would meet his eyes. 

“I’m going to take it off soon,” he told him, and Derek’s eyes fell half-closed as he nodded. “But first, you’ve just gotta suck me for a couple of minutes, okay?”

Derek wet his lips and nodded again, gaze falling to Stiles’ cock; it never failed to arouse Stiles with how much Derek openly, nakedly _wanted_ him. He guided his cock into Derek’s mouth and felt him hum, as if with pleasure. 

“That’s it,” he said, staring down, gritting his teeth against how fucking incredible Derek’s mouth felt, wet and hot and so damn welcoming. His perfect lips, obscenely stretched. “It’s going in your ass next, so there’s some incentive to get it good and wet… I can’t be bothered to find the lube, so I guess we’ve just got spit and pre-come.”

Derek grunted, sucking him more fervently. Sucking no-hands was a good look on him: he was craning forwards to take as much of Stiles’ cock into his mouth as possible, making up for not being able to stroke him as well. When he pulled back his lips clamped tight around Stiles’ cockhead and his tongue moved frantically, and Stiles bit down on a gasp but couldn’t stop himself from thrusting in hard. 

Once, right to the back of Derek’s throat—and then he made himself pull out again. 

Derek’s mouth was just so _soft_. Fucking it for the first time had been one of the high points of Stiles’ actual existence; even now, he couldn’t get over how good Derek was, how eager and hot and insatiable. Stiles could fuck his mouth for long, slow minutes, until Derek’s lips were puffy and his eyes were glazed, and still when he stopped Derek would whine in his throat, disappointed and hoping for more. 

“You’re so good,” Stiles said, stroking his hair, as Derek worked over his cock with wet, sucking kisses. “But if I come down your throat, it’s going to be hours before I can come in your ass, and since I’m not taking the cock-ring off until then… it’s really in everyone’s interests that I don’t.”

Derek made another low noise and started licking Stiles’ cock again, short hurried strokes of his tongue, heavy with spit. 

“Yeah,” Stiles said, and then closed his hand tight in Derek’s hair, making him work to reach his cock with his tongue because that—that was just always worth doing. 

His cock was almost dripping by the time he let Derek go. He crawled back down the bed, reaching to haul down Derek’s jeans, and his gaze fell on Derek’s cock again. Derek’s cock was _actually_ dripping, pre-come gleaming all down his the shaft, spilling onto his shirt and staining dark patches. 

Stiles wrenched down Derek’s jeans and tossed them aside, eyes fixed on Derek’s cock. It looked even harder than before, flushed a rosy colour and darker at the head, straining up from the cock-ring, his balls drawn up tight between his legs. 

Stiles lifted Derek’s balls to reveal his asshole, tightly closed but twitching as he watched. He’d fucked him yesterday, from behind, and then afterwards spread his cheeks and watched his come drizzle out again as Derek’s shiny red hole slowly closed. Now it was soft and pink again, dry. Stiles ran his fingers through the mess at the head of Derek’s cock, gathering up fluid and then bringing his hand between Derek’s thighs. 

The first two fingers went in slickly loaded and came out clean; he did it again, and again, pushing pre-come into Derek’s ass until his fingers were coming out as wet as they went in. Every time, there was more hot fluid from Derek’s cock to swipe his fingers through, as Derek spread his legs wider and wider and made begging noises under his breath.

Stiles stroked Derek’s cock a couple of times and covered his palms in pre-come, then slicked up his own cock and moved in between Derek’s legs; kneeling between Derek’s thighs, pulling his hips up into his lap, he levelled his cock against Derek’s soft, gleaming asshole and started trying to push inside. 

He watched Derek’s cock strain as he pressed against his hole; he only prepared him with two fingers these days, so they’d both feel the extra stretch as his cockhead forced its way in. Derek’s dick flexed hard as Stiles entered him, and another shining bead of pre-come rolled down and joined the stain on his shirt. 

“God,” Stiles muttered, events catching up with him. He still couldn’t get over how amazing it felt, having Derek spread out beneath him like this, gorgeous and desperate for Stiles’ cock up his ass, grateful for whatever Stiles would give. 

Stiles pushed in to the hilt and paused, forcing his eyes up to Derek’s face. Derek was biting his lip, his whole body straining, and Stiles knew in that instant that this wasn’t going to take long.

“I’m going to take the ring off,” Stiles said, surprising himself with how unsteady his own voice sounded. “And if you don’t come while I’m fucking you, you can come in my mouth.”

Derek just whined in his throat, hunching his hips against Stiles’ pelvis, and then Stiles reached down and flicked open the cock-ring and Derek’s whole body clenched down hard.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” Derek panted, and for a moment Stiles thought Derek was going to come without any other stimulation at all – it would be a first – and then Derek’s eyes opened, and he met Stiles’ gaze, and mouthed, almost silent, “ _Fuck me._ ”

Derek wasn’t the only one who could follow orders. Stiles wrapped Derek’s legs around his waist and grabbed his hips, pulling him hard into his lap, moving him on Stiles’ cock in short, slick jerks. It felt incredible, but that was nothing compared with watching Derek’s face, the struggle playing over it as he melted into being fucked and simultaneously tried not to come. 

Stiles, personally, was not trying anything of the sort. He let himself get lost in the delicious friction of fucking Derek’s hot, tight ass, watching the impact of his thrusts roll up Derek’s body, and then was almost surprised when all the sensations lightening-bolted together and sizzled down into his balls. 

“Jesus,” Stiles burst out, burying himself as hard as he could as he started to come, clawing Derek’s sweaty hips for purchase as he shot his load deep in his ass. “ _Jesus. Fuck._

Derek made a series of frantic noises, and for a moment Stiles though he was going to come too—but he wasn’t, he was riding it out, encouraging Stiles with dirty little twists of his hips, biting his lip again, almost snarling.

Stiles finished inside him, felt everything rush to his head, and almost toppled over sideways onto the bed. His brain was still full of swearing, curses that he was too breathless to say out loud, and for a moment he didn’t know which way was up. 

Then, he did know. He knew that that was the ceiling, and this, where he’d face-planted, was the bedsheets, and that – as he rolled onto his side and looked in Derek’s direction – _that_ , straining above Derek’s well-fucked body, was Derek’s hard swollen leaking long-suffering cock. 

“You can… free yourself,” Stiles said, his voice husky, his eyes on Derek’s cock. Derek could always untie himself, but he never did unless he was given permission. “And then get over here.”

A moment later, Derek was lying on his side in front of him, his cock level with Stiles’ face but still a polite distance away. 

Stiles licked his lips and reached for him, coaxing him closer, and then Derek’s cock was against his lips and he was letting him slide inside. 

Derek was normally a picture of restraint when his cock was in Stiles’ mouth, treating it as a privilege, but—Stiles had maybe pushed him too far. Derek groaned as his cock entered Stiles mouth, and immediately started to thrust. His hands fell down to cradle Stiles’ face, soft at first and then gripping hard, and Stiles swallowed, trying to relax into it as the thick length of Derek’s cock pushed right to the back of his mouth. 

Stiles would normally warn him off in situations like this, push him away, but his head was fuzzy with recent orgasm and his limbs felt warm and heavy, and it was hot, he had to admit, feeling Derek give in to his desperation. Derek was moving rapidly, barely pulling out before he was thrusting back in, and then he clamped down on Stiles’ jaw and shoved in hard, pushing and pushing, his cock forcing its way right down Stiles’ throat. 

Stiles swallowed hard, eyes stinging, and fought to let it happen. His body was protesting, even in its post-coital state, that it wasn’t _possible_ to let Derek do this—but Derek had done it for him, so clearly it was possible, and right now Stiles wanted to show his appreciation. 

_Mind over matter_ , he thought, as Derek’s cock slid out as far as his lips and then plunged forwards into his throat again, and Stiles swallowed clumsily around him and ignored the stretched burn of his throat, snatching as much breath as he could through his nose. 

“Oh fuck, fuck,” Derek was panting, clutching Stiles’ face, “ _fuck_ , that’s—“

Stiles strained to hear, because it was rare that Derek said anything more than expletives while they were in bed together, but no more was forthcoming. Just Derek’s cock, fucking his face, and god, that was hot. Fucking Stiles’ mouth, shoving into his throat, the whole length of his cock pushed into Stiles’ body—no wonder Derek loved this so much. It was ridiculously intense to be used like this, feeling every inch of Derek’s cock forcing him open, slamming into him and then – yes, _yes_ – starting to come. 

Derek gave a loud groan and tightened his hands around Stiles’ head, fucking his throat in unsteady jerks and shooting his come against the back of Stiles’ mouth. Stiles gagged and tried to pull back, but Derek’s hands were unyielding; Stiles wound up swallowing again and again as Derek filled his mouth, salty and sweet and bitter, until Derek fell back from him with a long, drawn out groan. 

Stiles rolled onto his back, panting. After a few long seconds, he reached up gingerly to touch his mouth. His lips weren’t, as he’d half expected, twice their normal size. He wiped his mouth with his thumb, catching the smears of come that he hadn’t managed to swallow, and then sucked his thumb clean. 

God. That had been more intense than expected. 

“Did I… should I apologise?” Derek said suddenly, and Stiles looked up to see him sprawled out next to him, looking down from the headboard, eyes wary. 

He hadn’t, Stiles noted, actually apologised. 

Stiles sucked his lower lip for a second, considering. “No,” he said eventually, and saw Derek’s eyes flash with something that looked more like lust than relief. “We’re cool.” 

Derek just nodded. 

Stiles rolled onto his side and wriggled up the bed, until their faces were level. “Very cool,” he said, and let his voice go thoughtful. “Like… we could do that again some time.”

“Sure,” Derek said, his voice giving nothing away. “Whatever you want.”

Yeah. Decisions? Really not Derek’s strong point, but luckily Stiles was here to make the decisions for the both of them.  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to OP for the prompt!


End file.
